


Disgraced Exile in the Tomb-Colonies

by Sholio



Series: Free of Surface Ties [4]
Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar, White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 06:13:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2682140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/pseuds/Sholio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>I find I am beginning to appreciate the appeal of the Tomb-Colonies. Their lofty architecture, their dust-filled silences ... No, I lie. I'm bored out of my skull.</i> (Further adventures of the White Collar characters in Fallen London.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disgraced Exile in the Tomb-Colonies

**Author's Note:**

> In the game, if your Scandal builds up too high, you are deported to the Tomb-Colonies and have to write letters to your in-game acquaintances back home, trying to get them to put in a good word for you so you can come home. The character implications were too wonderful to pass up.

_Dear Peter and Elizabeth,_

_I find I am beginning to appreciate the appeal of the Tomb-Colonies. Their lofty architecture, their dust-filled silences ... No, I lie. I'm bored out of my skull and I have taken to examining every glass of wine for fear something unspeakable might have chanced to fall into it. Please, if you remember me with any fondness at all --_

 

"Neal?"

Neal, startled, raised his head from his writing-desk and the letter in which he'd been detailing his latest woes. A familiar voice, here of all places -- "Peter?"

"Oh, thank heaven. They told me I'd find you here." Peter stepped into the chamber. He looked -- well, just like Peter normally did, except for a bit of dust and cobwebs on the shoulders of his coat; but it was impossible to go anywhere in this place without getting dusty, as Neal had found out to his chagrin. 

"Where did you come from?" Neal asked in disbelief. Of all the people he'd expected to encounter here, Peter was at the bottom of the list.

"Came in on the steamer this morning." Peter gripped Neal's arm and examined him carefully.

"Looking for bandages?" Neal said dryly. "Death isn't contagious, Peter."

"I know, I know, it's just -- your _letters_ \--"

Neal fidgeted. "Some of them may have seemed a little ... desperate."

"El was worried," Peter said.

"Just El, huh?" When Peter didn't answer, Neal swept an arm to indicate the moldering furniture in the cavern around them. "No, as you can see, I'm fine, merely bored. This place was interesting for about two minutes in a _oh, hey, never been HERE before_ sort of way, but that wore off after the first --" He paused. "Say, what are you doing here, anyway?"

"What do you think I'm doing here?" Peter burst out. "You disappear from London and then these _letters_ start arriving, hinting at horrific conditions --"

"That would be mostly the parties," Neal said. Peter's face turned several different shades of red, and Neal finally caught on. "Peter -- did you get yourself exiled on _purpose_?"

"It wasn't hard," Peter said. "A few hours at Court, a certain degree of honesty --" Neal could imagine the scene all too well. "Are you _sure_ you're all right?" 

Neal sighed, and looked at him with a blend of annoyance and fondness.

"Peter, you do realize that there's nothing you can do for me here, don't you? The only place you can do anything to help me is back in London, by putting in a good word for me with anyone you know. I was especially counting on you to talk to the Constables and spread a few bribes down on the Docks."

"You could have said so!" 

"I did," Neal pointed out. Of course, it had probably been buried under a few pages of complaints about the food, the constant dueling, the smell ...

Now Peter had started to look crestfallen as the reality of the situation sank in, so Neal took pity on him and patted his arm. "Well, it's the thought that counts, isn't it? And I hear they have Tomb-Lions here."

Peter brightened somewhat at that.

"Between the two of them, Moz and Elizabeth know everyone in town anyway." Neal shoved a stack of writing-paper and an inkpot at him. "Start writing."

 

_My dearest Elizabeth,_

_One day into my exile in the Tomb-Colonies, I am already of half a mind to strangle Caffrey and have done with it ..._


End file.
